


Freedom

by Anonymous



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Invisible Snufkin in the first bit of the story, Mentions of Gaslighting, Not Beta Read, Other, Past Abuse, Trauma, Trauma Recovery, Vent/Coping fic, kind of a canon divergence form the ending of the 90s version, past abusive relationship, past forced relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:55:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18928024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: If Snufkin had been born with wings, he would be flying. Flying through the clouds and over the rolling hills that reached past the horizon, yipping and cheering all the way. And if he'd still had a voice, he'd be cheering, "I'm free! I'm free!" As he twirled through the vast meadows and fields of flowers.He'd cry a beautiful cry if he could, for freedom had never tasted as sweet on his tongue as it did now.--Vent/Coping fic. Please read tags and disclaimer before reading.





	Freedom

**Author's Note:**

> Did you read the tags? If you've read them only once, please re-read them once again and when you're done, please read this disclaimer:  
> I began writing this after a fitful and sleepless night of flashbacks and finally decided that I wanted to write something to help myself deal with it. The things Snufkin goes through in this are based off of things I've experienced and the recovery bit is because I long for the days I can feel the same way Snufkin does at the end of this.  
> Nothing is too explicitly written, except for one instance of physical abuse which is mild, while the rest is mostly lightly mentioned. Though, I'm not really sure what counts as lightly talked about and explicit, as it's different for everyone.  
> This reads oddly because I still struggle with talking about my trauma, so it might not make sense at certain points, since articulating memories of trauma is hard.  
> Please proceed with caution if abuse (emotional, physical, and sexual) is triggering to you. 
> 
> If you find yourself uncomfortable with the contents, then please turn back now.

If Snufkin had been born with wings, he would be flying. Flying through the clouds and over the rolling hills that reached past the horizon, yipping and cheering all the way. And if he'd still had a voice, he'd be cheering, "I'm free! I'm free!" As he twirled through the vast meadows and fields of flowers.

He'd cry a beautiful cry if he could, for freedom had never tasted as sweet on his tongue as it did now. The scent of lilac surrounded him as he skipped through the field and spun and laughed and cried and oh, how he’d forgotten how wonderful a smell it was.

How wonderful it was to feel the sun on his skin and feel the wind through his hair. To smell the flowers of spring and taste the dew of the air.

It's been almost two years. Trapped and tied down and miserable, but not anymore. There was only one place he wanted to be now and only one person he wanted to see.

So for countless days and nights he ran and no one saw him. He was nothing more than a whisper on the wind as his feet pounded against the new born earth. By the time he reached the comforting, familiar path leading to the valley he ran even harder despite the way his lungs burned with each breath.  
  
He found himself stopping suddenly, nearly falling from the force of it.

Fears, forgotten and unspoken until now came forth and swirled at the forefront of his mind, crashing into him like a pound of heavy red bricks. It wiggled in his chest like a heavily weighted worm. Snufkin didn't like it.

He jerks when he sees his sleeves begin to fade again, "Oh dear," He thinks, "Moomintroll won't be able to see me." He fights, desperate for opacity to return but there's nothing. Once again he's invisible.

But Snufkin is so close to home. So close to seeing Moomintroll again. He can't stop now. He has to keep moving; he would figure something out when he got there.

As he grows closer to the valley, Snufkin can hear the familiar metallic sound of his harmonica and feels his heart swell. Moomin had still kept it safe, even after Snufkin inadvertently broke his promise from so long ago.

Oh. Oh, how would he explain all this to the poor Moomin? He was too kind and far too innocent to understand such things. There was no way Snufkin could tell him. His view of the world was that it was kind and forgiving. If he knew about this...

His heart aches, just as it had the many nights in a bed that wasn't his own. It yearned for the warm touch of his dear friend, for the cold and harsh hands he'd been exposed to left him with nothing but vulnerability and fear.

Snufkin follows the sound until he reaches the bridge and there he is. His dear Moomintroll with his snow white fur that glows an angelic glow in the spring sun. The troll is concentrated, expertly playing _All Small Beasts_ on Snufkins harmonica. The familiarity of the song causes his heart to scream and call out to the troll. It cries and begs him to move forward, but once again, he stops. He can't move.

Snufkin is frozen as the memories flood him. Of stupid thoughts and stupid actions. Yes, there was no one Snufkin could blame but himself and he knew that very well. It was his own fault that he took almost two years to return to the valley. It was his own fault for being caged for the past year and a half.

He stands still, lost in a trance as he watches his dear friend, it's obvious Moomintroll has changed. He looks larger now, almost the size of a fully grown Moomin. Snufkin hadn't grown much in the past year; Moomin must be taller than him now.

Something, or rather someone, bumps into his calves. It shocks him out of his thoughts as he turns and Snufkin feels as though he could sob when he meets the grumpy green of Little My's eyes. Goodness, he’d never thought he’d say it, but how he’d missed her.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" She shouts and the sound is grating on Snufkin's ears. He'd grown quite sensitive to shouting over time, you see. The sound makes his heart shake and for a moment he has to calm his breathing. He wasn't in trouble. Little My couldn't see him. She's just confused. Snufkin tells himself with a deep breath.

Moomin stopped playing to see what the racket was, his nose twitched as he turned towards him and Little My. Those comforting blue eyes he'd always loved didn't see him as they landed on Little My’s small form. "What is it, Little My?" Oh. Growing taller hadn't been the only thing to change about Moomin it seemed, for his voice had grown deeper to. Snufkin couldn't help the flutter in his heart at that.

"Someone's here, but they're invisible!" She said, poking at Snufkin's leg, "Hey! Yeah, what's wrong with you? Were you born invisible or do we need to beat someone up?"

Snufkin wants to cry. Goodness does he want to, for he’d missed Little My and her brash personality.

"Little My," Moomin scolds as he moves to stand on the bridge. By all the bows in a tail, Moomin had indeed grown quite tall. Snufkin couldn't help the slight plummet in his heart when he realized once again that he had indeed missed almost two years of Moomin's life. "You can't approach someone who is invisible like that."

"..." Little My huffed, a tint of pink to her cheeks, "Yeah, but remember Ninny? The poor girl was scared invisible! Maybe this one is too!"

Snufkin wouldn’t say he was scared invisible. There were plenty of things that all mixed together into one big mesh and it was all too messy and confusing to deal with. He didn’t want to think about it, so instead he focuses on Moomin and how his fur seems thicker than it use to be.

Moomintroll scoffs and shakes his head, choosing to ignore Little My. Snufkin watches as he turns to where he assumes Snufkin is and says, "Two knocks for yes, one for no. Okay?" Snufkin knocks on the closest tree twice and Moomin and Little My follow the sound. "Good! Now, were you born invisible?"

Snufkin knocks once and his heart sinks when Moomin's ears flatten back against his head.

"Oh. I'm so sorry." He whispers, deflating for a disheartening moment, then he comes to life once more as says, "You’re welcome to come stay with my family, there’s always room for guests at Moominhouse!”  
  
Good old Moomintroll. Still kind and considerate of others, even those that he can not see. Always willing to offer up a room and volunteer his parents for help.

 

* * *

It's been three days, and they'd managed to communicate quite well through 'yes' and 'no.' It had been late one night when Moomin offered to cook Snufkin something to eat, for Snufkin confessed it he was indeed quite hungry. He missed Moomin quite dearly, and even though part of him wanted to stay away, the other part of him wanted to be as close to Moomin as he possibly could. 

Moomin stirs the soup silently for a time, releasing a melancholy sigh as he places the ladle to the side of the pan. "I once had a friend," he began, "I- I-" the troll shook his head. "Oh, I miss him so much!" Moomin exclaims softly, turning his nose to the ceiling and letting his eyes fall closed. Tears slip down his cheeks, matting the fur and dropping onto the stove next to the fire. They quickly evaporate with the sound of a soft sizzle.

Snufkin reaches across the space between, giving a silent gasp when he sees his sleeves have returned along with his coat and his hat and his trousers and his boots! Oh, "Moomintroll!" He says, gently patting the trolls arm. "Please look at me, I'm right here!" He tries to comfort, but knows Moomin won't be able to hear him. His voice still refuses to return. But he knows Moomin can feel him.

"Hm?" Moomin hums, looking up to face him. The sound he makes next is loud like a shriek, and Snufkin flinches at its volume. Barely above a whisper, Moomin asks, "Snufkin? Is it really you?"

Snufkin nods and suddenly there are paws on his cheeks and he has to fight the urge to pull away. He jumps from the movement, however, almost expecting Moomin to smack him. It never comes though and he lets himself calm down a little once he reminds himself that Moomin would never do such a thing.

"Oh! Snufkin!" Moomintroll sobs, his furry thumb rubbing over Snufkin's invisible cheek. "What happened? I never gave up hope that you’d return! I-I-" His speech is cut off by a loud sob as he pulls Snufkin into a tight, bone crushing hug.

"Oh my, children what is going- Snufkin?" Moominmamma gasps when she steps into the kitchen, eyes falling on the green clothes Snufkin is wearing. "Oh!" She cries, making her way across the kitchen to pull the two into a hug.

Moominpappa is next, "Snufkin!" He cheers at the sight of Snufkin's hat and soon he too is piling into the hug. 

Snufkin knows he should feel warm. Happy. Comforted. But instead he feels suffocated. Trapped. His skin is tight and he wants nothing more than to scream, _"Don't touch me!"_ But he lets them hold him, even if it itches under his skin and makes him want to scream. He holds it back.

* * *

A full week passes before Snufkin is fully visible again. However, he’s still struggling with his thoughts and memories. He hasn’t even told Moomin about what happened yet. Honestly, he doubts he’ll ever find the words to do so.

It’s late one night when Moominpappa finds him in the kitchen sipping on a lukewarm cup of tea. Snufkin was allowed to come and go as he pleased and even eat anything if he’d wanted to. He took advantage of that from time to time when he was younger. Tonight he couldn’t bare being alone in his tent, so he’d come to bask in the comforting atmosphere Moominhouse had.

“Oh, I’m sorry- I’ll leave right away,” Snufkin says quickly, slipping out of the chair and hurrying to the sink to clean the cup he borrowed. Moominpappa stops him, slowly extending his paw out to stop Snufkin. Snufkin does stop, turning his head up to meet Moominpappa’s eyes. Where he expects to find anger, he instead finds soft eyes filled with compassion and sympathy.

“Snufkin my boy, you’re quite alright. Come sit down with me, I feel like we haven’t had the chance to speak yet!” Moominpappa says, going about making his own cup of tea. Snufkin stands by awkwardly, contemplating if this is a good idea. Against his better judgement he decides to sit, what else does he have to lose at this point?

When Papa has finished and settles down, he gives Snufkin a bright smile and then goes to sip at his tea. Snufkin feels hot beneath his coat and extremely uncomfortable. Was Moominpappa waiting for him to speak?

“Quite the weather we’ve been having.” Snufkin says, keeping his eyes low. He’d forgotten how conversations worked, since the only time he’d ever talked in the past few years had been arguments with _him_ . The tea is a soft brown, almost like _his_ \- oh dear. Suddenly he feels disgustingly sick to his stomach and the tea splashes over the rim when he harshly pushes the mug away.

It clatters against the saucer, leaving Moominpappa quite startled, but he doesn't make a sound. It’s almost like he recognizes instantly what’s wrong with Snufkin, and maybe he does as he slips out of his chair and makes his way to Snufkin’s side. With the most gentle voice he can muster, he asks, “Is it okay if I hug you?”

Snufkin can’t find his voice to respond, but he accepts the hug as Moominpappa slowly pulls him into it. It’s clear the old moomin is giving him the choice to pull away if he must, but the soft fur is comforting and it gives him something to ground himself. There’s a small strand of trust that keeps him from pushing Moominpappa away and he clings to it for dear life amidst the thoughts running wild in his head.

 _I’m fine._ Snufkin tells himself. _I’m fine_. He repeats again, and he does so until the feelings of fear die down and the memory of furious eyes directed at him fall away. The feeling of Moominpappa rubbing comforting circles into his back is grounding and soon he finds himself back in the kitchen of Moominhouse.  
  
Snufkin isn’t standing face to face with _him_ anymore, trying to hold on to his composure as _he_ screams obscenities at him.

“I’m sorry,” Snufkin whispers. He feels embarrassed. No one has ever seen him act like this. The only time he had ever cried in front of others had been so long ago when the sea had dried up.

“It’s alright, Snufkin.” Moominpappa says, gently pulling his arms back from the young mumrik. “I understand you might not want to talk about it, but please know that you’re always welcome to come and find me if you need it.”  
  
Snufkin nods, about to pick up his tea cup and clean up the mess that poured around it when Moominpappa waves him off. The old moomin says, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. It’s quite late and  you should be heading to bed.”

He doesn’t fight it, instead Snufkin smiles softly and nods. “Thank you, then. Good night, Moominpappa.”

“Goodnight Snufkin.”

* * *

 

That night Snufkin dreams of the winter from from nearly two years ago.

It was an ever growing harsh one. The snow was so thick he couldn’t even place his tent; and that was when _he_ showed up, offering Snufkin a place to stay the night.

Had he been smarter, Snufkin would have said no. For in all his years, he’d never thought about the repercussions of trusting strangers. That was how he met Moomin, after all! But he’d been a foolish child, accepting kindness from someone he should have never trusted.  
  
Snufkin dreams of slamming doors and screams so loud they cause a pounding headache and his heart to tremble in his chest. He wakes with a start far too many times to count and eventually decides it’s less of a hassle to simply stay awake.

He doesn’t fully fall asleep again until he passes out from pure exhaustion on a walk with Moomintroll.

 

* * *

Stuck in Moomin’s bed, Snufkin waits for the troll to leave the room on Snufkin’s behalf before speaking with Moominpappa. He’s standing by the bed with a smile, and takes a seat by Moominmamma’s side. The two parents regard him with looks so comforting Snufkin feels like crying. They’re so understanding and so, so kind.“Moomin won’t be back for a while, dear.” Moominmamma says, comfortingly patting his paw. “You’re free to say what you please. But only speak of what you’re comfortable with, alright?”

Snufkin nods, and then he begins the tale. It’s a lot and he feels his brain turning to radio static as he speaks and he hates it. It’s hard for him to find the right words and at times he falls silent and stares off into random corners of Moomintroll’s room. He can’t talk over the whole story, so he glosses over details he finds insignificant while trying to explain the harsher parts.

He avoids going to into detail about hands that wandered to places they shouldn’t have. It makes Snufkin’s skin crawl and makes him furious and makes the static grow tenfold. He mentions late nights of trying to leave, only to be screamed at again and again.

Mama and Papa share a look of horror when Snufkin is finished, but he doesn't see it. His mind is far away, eyes stuck on a crude drawing Moomin made of the two of them from years ago. The white of the paper has faded to a creamy color as time has passed. Snufkin remembers the day Moomin drew it, as if it had only been yesterday.

“Snufkin my boy,” Moominpappa says, clearing his throat. He opens his mouth to say something, only to stop when Moominmamma places her paw on his own, giving him a soft knowing smile before she turns to Snufkin.  
  
“Dear, I’m so sorry you had to experience something so awful. I hope you know you can always come to Papa or I if you need something or if you simply need to talk.” She says this all with her comforting smile as she leans forward, then she stops to ask, “Is it alright if I hug you?” Snufkin nods and doesn’t realize he’s been crying until Moominmama gently wipes a tear away from his cheek before pulling him into a hug.

* * *

 Mama and Papa had explained… something to Moomintroll, it seemed. They kept their promise and didn’t tell him everything, that was certain. But they had explained enough for Moomin to understand why Snufkin was acting the way he was.  
  
It was hard watching Snufkin blank out or get frightened so easily. It wasn’t the Snufkin he was use to.  
  
“All that we can do is be there for him,” Mama says over a cup of tea. The three of them had sat down together to discuss this while Snufkin was gone; having decided to finally take to sleeping in his tent again.

Moomin doesn’t fully understand what trauma is, but he listens and accepts what Mama and Papa says, and on their advice, he lets Snufkin come to him when he’s ready.

* * *

In the summer, the old group of friends go berry picking. Sniff and Little My and Snorkmaiden all charge ahead on the path, laughing and being as silly as they had been when they were younger. Snufkin relishes this new memory with a smile. The fond, exciting memories of his younger years filled him with the hope to keep moving when he was stuck with _him_ , unable to return to the only place he had ever called home.

“Can I hold your paw?” Moomintroll asks. He waits with a silent smile as Snufkin thinks. He takes a while, but finally nods. It was hard, getting use to physical contact again. But Moomintroll was gentle and calm, and let him go at the pace he needed.

It made his heart flutter, it made him want to let his feelings of love out. He loved Moomin so much he felt like he could drown in all the love he had. But he holds it back. He's scared. He's scared of being like him and hurting Moomin.

They find a berry bush filled to the brim with blackberries and start picking. At some point, someone throws a berry and it splatters a purple-ish red against Sniff’s forehead.

“Hey!” He cries, big ears twitching as he turns to Little My,”What was that for?”  
  
The mymble chuckles and throws another, it soars past Sniff and hits Moomin in the head and soon enough she’s losing it with laughter as Sniff and Moomin chase after her. Suddenly, there’s berries being thrown back and forth, and Snufkin watches from the sidelines. He feels out of place suddenly, among the laughter and the cheers. He doesn’t belong here; nor does he deserve to be here.

He sets his basket down, and wanders off when no one is paying attention. It wouldn’t be right for him to stay with his feelings the way they are now. He’d only sour the mood and that just wouldn’t be fair. For the longest time, he had never paid much attention to his feelings. It's funny what freedoms you notice you once had when they're suddenly ripped away from you. 

The group finds him perched by a little pond, hand lying gently against the surface and a blank look on his face. Little My is the one to approach him, a handful of berries in her palm; and Moomin tries to stop her but by the time she's reached Snufkin, she playfully splats the handful of berries against his nose. 

He gives a frightful cry, snapping back to reality. Fingers brushing against his nose. The juice of the raspberries are close enough to the color of blood to drag a memory forward and oh dear. Oh dear. Oh dear. His hands begin to shake as he remembers blood dripping from his nose. 

Snufkin had been doing nothing more than minding his own business, curled up and out of _his_ way. He'd tried to focus on reading whilst ignoring the sunshine that teased him through the window; though that didn't work. Each book held a world he'd rather be in, but it was all teasing him. He was trapped. 

There was no warning when  _he_ entered the living-room, swiftly approaching Snufkin. There was no warning when his hand stuck Snufkin across the face causing his nose to bleed. 

"What was that for?" Snufkin demands without even thinking of his words, his paws are shaking as he tentatively touches his nose. Pulling them back reveals blood and he gasps, "I'm bleeding!" 

"Why are you complaining?" _He_  sneers. Tutting and shaking his head, "You're overreacting. _I didn't hit you that hard_." 

Snufkin snarled at him before he took to storming out of the room. In this tiny house, it was hard to find places Snufkin could be alone. But that was all he had wanted in that moment. 

But in present day, Snufkin is trying to breathe. He's glad he hadn't swung a fist at Little My; oh. Oh, if he had, how truly awful he would have felt. He knows she didn't mean to frighten him like this and he can't blame her when he sees how worried she suddenly is, along with the rest of them. But their looks and concern and pity grate on his nerves. He doesn't like it. _He doesn't want it._  

"I want to be alone." He announces. Turning on his heel and leaving the group. 

* * *

That night Moomin wanders down to Snufkin's camp with two mugs of hot cocoa. It's a little early for that, but Snufkin accepts the drink gratefully, inviting the troll to take a seat by his fire. 

They sit in a cool, comforting silence. Like they use to way back when. Snufkin itches to smoke his pipe, but  _he_ had destroyed that long ago after becoming enraged over Snufkin refusing to clean up after him. Perhaps he should travel to a town further north and steal one; or maybe Moominpappa had an extra he no longer wanted to use. 

Moomin breaks the silence by asking, "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"About what?" 

"Earlier," Moomin explains. "Did... did Little My... trigger something?" 

Snufkin turns away from the comforting and understanding blue of Moomin's eyes and nods reluctantly, "Yes, but I'd rather not speak of it." 

"That's alright, you don't have to." Moomin replies, giving Snufkin's paw a gentle pat. "If you want to, I'll be hear to listen when you're ready. Until then, take your time, okay, Snufkin?" 

"...I will tell you one day, I promise." 

"Even if that day doesn't come, just know that I'll always be here for you, Snufkin." 

* * *

That winter Snufkin decides to stay in Moominvalley and hibernate with the rest of them. Snufkin doesn't want to travel this year; for whatever reason, he isn't quite sure. Perphaps he's afraid of running into _him_. Perhaps he's afraid of losing his freedom all over again. 

He accepts Moomin’s offer to stay in the troll’s room and hopes that he won’t be restless as he tries to hibernate.

Of course, as his luck had been, he awoke midwinter from a nightmare. His blood running so cold he could feel it in his bones. Snufkin’s body shook and he’d done his best to hold back tears, but he’d still sobbed and to his dismay, it stirred the moomintroll right awake with a start.

“Snufkin?” He whispers sleepily. Snufkin huffs a shaky breath before shoving his face into the pillow and trying to pretend he’s asleep. It doesn't work.

Moomin gently announces that he's going to hug him before letting his arms wrap around Snufkin's waist and pulling him closer. Snufkin peeks at him through his strands of messy hair and his heart hurts tenfold. The look of concern Moomin is giving him makes him feel guilty. Moomin shouldn't have to deal with this, he should be sleeping as his nature intended.

"Do… do you want to talk about it?"

He takes a moment and then nods and says through breathy sobs, "I suppose it wouldn't hurt." He's silent for a spell, focusing on gathering his words and when he finally does find them, he says, "I… I should start from the beginning."

"Only if you want to."

And so, Snufkin does.

He relays how he met _him_ , and how _he_ had been so kind at first. A true gentleman, charismatic and outgoing. Everyone in his town loved him. _He_ helped Snufkin out of the snow and gave him a warm place to stay in the winter. It was far too cold for him to travel still without risking his own life, so reluctantly, Snufkin accepted his offer to stay.

Snufkin couldn't really remember when they had become a "couple", as it seemed  _he_ just started to claim it. Maybe Snufkin should have been paying more attention, but each little word  _he_ spoke trickled into Snufkin's conscious and tricked him more and more each day. The words kept coming and spiraling around in his mind until he couldn't bring up the argument that they weren't a couple anymore because Snufkin wasn't so sure anymore. Once Spring had arrived and he'd tricked Snufkin into staying, he'd dragged Snufkin out on "dates" and paraded him around like an object. 

Snufkin hated it. 

Somewhere along the line, things had started to get odd, or, even odder than they already were. Snufkin had found his tobacco pouch, the one his dearest woodies made for him, ripped to shreds. He'd been rightfully upset, as he found it was destroyed by hand, leaving only _him_ as the suspect. When Snufkin confronted _him, he_ gave him a twisted smile, leaned over and whispered. _"I did, but what are you going to do about it? Make a fuss and I assure you no one will believe you."_

And oh, how furious Snufkin had been. He'd tried to leave many, many times, but  _he_ would raise hell amongst the town and beg for someone to find him. Eventually, someone would drag him back, refusing to listen to Snufkin's side of the story. 

That was when he'd started to feel invisible. 

Of course, it only got worse from there. More screams. More shouts. More fists that had been thrown. It's blurry and like static in Snufkin's mind.

Finally, the only reason he had even managed to escape was because he had turned invisible. No one could see what was happening, and if they did, they didn't bat an eye. He'd felt miserable, like a Mockingbird clipped of her wings, thrust into a cage, and told she could never sing again. 

When he'd found the chance, he'd ran and ran, until Moomin and Little My found him that day. 

He finally relays to Moomin what he’d struggled with the most. Nights kept awake with hands where they had no right being. Of things he had never wanted to do, but words were a mystery and could trick even the smartest of beings.

When he finishes talking about everything, from the beginning of the story to the end, Moomin looks shocked. He’s a stumble of “I-” and “Oh, Snufkin.” and Snufkin isn’t sure what he wants to hear, but when Moomin gently takes his paw and sighs, “You’re such a wonderful person Snufkin, you didn’t deserve this.” Snufkin finds tears pricking at his eyes, and without thinking, he throws his arms around the troll, giving him the tightest hug he’s ever given anyone in his life and finds himself falling into a fit of tears. 

Moomin hugs him in turn, shell shocked from the confession and crying as well. It had taken months for Snufkin to finally tell him about this and honestly, Moomin was proud of him. He whispers soft words of comfort until Snufkin cries himself to sleep, still tucked safely in Moomin's arms.

Like he had said before, he wanted to support Snufkin through this.

And… maybe…

Maybe commit a murder too.

* * *

In the spring, Snufkin confesses his feelings. It’s completely and utterly by accident. He doesn’t expect it, but the feelings come full force, strong and suffocating and they bubble forth without a second thought. “I love you.” He says breathlessly.

They had only been eating breakfast together, nothing too splendiferous. They’d been sitting and chatting over pancakes Moomin made for the two of them, for Moominmamma and Moominpappa had left on an adventure, and Moomin hated still hated the thought of being home alone.

Moomin is shocked to hear the confession, but happy nonetheless. “I love you too, Snufkin.” He replies calmly, though he surely doesn’t feel calm. His heart is fluttering and pounding and ready to escape from his chest and leap across the table. “But…” He knows Snufkin is still uncomfortable with the idea of being with someone, for he’d mentioned it a few times.

“I want to try. There’s no point in being afraid of something forever. Besides,” Snufkin says, giving Moomin a beaming smile, “I trust you, Moomintroll.”

Moomin has to restrain himself from leaping across the table and pulling Snufkin into the worlds biggest hug, for Snufkin is the most lovely thing, smiling at him like that in the morning sun.  
  
And oh, how proud he is of the dear mumrik. For a year ago he’d be horrified of the thought of being in another relationship, but here he is now, willing to give it a shot because- because he trusts Moomintroll! Oh, that’s such a wonderful feeling, knowing someone trusts you.

* * *

The summer is warm as Moomin and Snufkin laze in the grass outside Moominhouse. It’s calm and peaceful and everything Snufkin has ever needed. Moomin hums along to the sound of Snufkin’s harmonica, the two of them drifting closer and closer as the seconds passed.

Snufkin peeks his eye open to watch the content rise and fall of Moomintroll’s chest. He’s so happy and peaceful and it brings Snufkin peace too. It’s times like these that remind him how glad he is to be alive.

Recovery is moving along quite well and he’s glad he’d opened up to Moomin in the winter. Perhaps it was a turning point. A sign that he was ready to heal.

Of course, he still had bumps in the road, he’s had nights where he could’t sleep at all and days where all he would do wassleep. There’s days where all he wants to do is lie in his tent and read or do simply lie around and do nothing at all.

But today he’s happy. He’s comfortable, simply basking in the warmth that Moomintroll gives off. Since they got together, they’ve been taking it slow, as Moomin lets Snufkin navigate his feelings as he must.  
  
“Moomin,” He says, stirring the troll from his nap. Snufkin can’t help but chuckle when Moomin peeks one sleepy, blue eye up at him, giving a soft hum. Snufkin leans down, pressing a soft kiss to Moomin’s forehead before whispering, “I love you.”

Moomin giggles, pressing his head against Snufkins leg and turning his body so he can face Snufkin in full. Gently, he brushes his paw against Snufkin’s cheek, slowing to a stop when Snufkin’s eyes flinch closed for only a moment, before fluttering open again as Snufkin moves his paw to take hold of Moomin’s.  
  
After a beat of silence,  Moomintroll replies, “I love you too, Snufkin.”

* * *

Two years had passed by faster than a blink of an eye since Snufkin returned to the valley.

Moomintroll excitedly leads him through a field of flowers. For that day they’re having a picnic under the warm sun. Snufkin enjoys the scent in the air, it’s nice and it’s calming and it makes him feel alive.  
  
He’d been feeling alive quite a bit more, actually. It was so wonderfully splendid to feel this way again. To simply walk and enjoy it again because he could, no longer afraid that _he_ would be looming around the corner, ready to pull it all away again. And, Snufkin has come to realize, even if _he_ did come around somehow, in some way, there was nothing _he_ could do. Snufkin had people whom loved him and who supported him and wanted nothing more than for him to be happy.  
  
Like Moomintroll, the dear, sweet ball of angelic fluff. He’d been oh so supportive of Snufkin in these past years, letting Snufkin feel as he needed to, holding Snufkin when his episodes grew too harsh. He’d talked Snufkin through his episodes, and they’d learned together the best way to navigate the long road that led to this moment.

Snufkin smiles a wide, goofy and utterly stupid smile to himself, feeling his chest grow warm. For he’s happy. Happier than anything in this moment. He’s come to learn one important thing through all of this as well: those who truly love you respect you and your boundaries, no matter what.

Their picnic starts, and in the middle of it, Moomin takes his paw and squeezes it comfortingly. “Snufkin, I’m so proud of you.” He says suddenly, it causes Snufkin to move his gaze from their linked paws to his eyes, “I’m so glad to see you happy again.”

Happy? Yes, he was happy.  
  
“Thank you, Moomin.”

“I mean it, Snuff! You’ve come so far and I’m so, so proud of you.” Moomin says, he sniffs and oh dear, his heart is singing. It’s hard to explain, but goodness, he’s so happy to see Snufkin happy again.

Snufkin is smiling too, happy to have gotten to this point. If it weren’t for the Moomins, he’d hate to think of where he would be now. He’s grateful for all of their support that they’ve given him throughout the past two years, and for all the support he knows they’ll still give him.

Moomin’s snout is soft against his cheek when Snufkin leans forward, nuzzling his face against it. Moomin giggles and returns the sentiment, before pulling away and pressing a soft Moomin-kiss to Snufkin’s forehead.

Snufkin feels his heart flutter.

So, this is what love is supposed to feel like. How wonderfully splendid a thing it is. 

**Author's Note:**

> I might end up removing this from the archive if I get uncomfortable but hopefully, someone out there will find this and find comfort in the idea that if Snufkin can recover from trauma, then they can too. 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
